photo by Rebecca Smith Smith
No, this doesn’t count as a post but I’ve discovered that there are people who read the blog who don’t do Facebook. I woke this morning, pondering the changes all around us–from Springtime to fracking, we are riding some wacky and difficult waves. So I did a few of my bossy Facebook posts and am sharing them here. With great affection and the certainty that we can do this. Truly.
The next installment in the Tower Tome Document files is called Sacra Ephesia. Here’s a post introducing that new essay–
I’m working on the next Tower Time essay. Yes, another one. Instead of worrying and fretting, take time today to ground yourself, breathe deeply, honor the Divines however you see them–and know that you have the heart and the brains to make this new world of ours. I suspect you also have the courage. Shall we continue? #sacraephesia
And so many people are struggling right now with the innervating news cycle. I want to share what it is I do when I feel overwhelmed.
Each time you read or hear of a new atrocity, a new injustice, a near-incomprehensible horror, I invite you to ground yourself deep into the bosom of Mother Earth and to take three deep cleansing breaths. Give your heart to the affected and give your mind to new and innovative ideas of how to both succor and overcome. Games faces, friends, show your true beauty here in Tower Time. Persevere. Wield your power. Fear not. Fear not. #sacraephesia
Last weekend, I was in Maryland, by way of the long and lovely Shenandoah Valley. We cam up through a light drizzle that fell on the fields of snow remaining from the snowfall the week before. As always, the drive is beautiful and far too long but the company was good and we were excited about the event to come–the combined gathering of the Between the Worlds and Sacred Space conferences.
If you have some bits of Harry Potter’s wizarding world floating about in your head, you would have been astounded at what a gathering of this kind really looks like. Ordinary-looking folks stamping the new snow from their boots, hugging old friends and colleagues with delight, dragging their tired selves and their baggage around the corner to the elevators, praying to their various and sundry gods that they had remembered everything for the class they would be teaching.
I have never attended so focused and pleasant a gathering of magical folk. As I told the volunteers and organizers, if there was drama, I didn’t see it. If there was outrage, it wasn’t near me. And I was in many sorts of places over the course of the weekend–café, bar, ballroom, meeting room, vendors space, stairwell, lobby. So, brava and bravo for that, organizers–and blessings from one who is weary of the drama and the jacked-up outrage.
I was grieved that my dear Judika Illes could not arrive but I think everyone else made it. The promised snow did arrive on Thursday morning and it brought with it the deep silence and astounding beauty that set the conference off like a jewelry setting.
There is much writing for me this week and I hope to return to the particulars of my time there. For now, I will end with my gratitude to the conveners who brought us together, for the Earth that sustained us from her cloak of white and for the community that is willing to step into the change that is upon us and shape it as smiths shape strong iron.
Our time is here and now. Let justice be served. Let the people eat well. Let us dance with our joy into the streets.